The Cheetah
by Erc
Summary: Mac decides to change the direction of the path her and Harm are on.


A/N: Plot and I have not been on the best of terms lately, so this story really doesn't have one… just fluff, but fluff is good sometimes.

This story takes place a few months after the JAG-a-thon. I really wanted to develop this with that season (not sure if it is worthy) but I haven't seen those episodes in so long, I can't really do it…

**The Cheetah**

Mac's Apartment

1814

You spring up off the couch and, for the umpteenth night in a row, start pacing around your apartment. You know now, how the cheetah feels at the zoo. You understand why he circles his cage--the pent up energy from being confined, the uncontrollable yearning for a way out.

But unlike the cheetah, you are confined to a cage you created. You chastise yourself for the millionth time. 'Back at the beginning' you had to say. It was that simple comment that sent you back to this cage.

You chuckle as you think of all of the morbid similarities between you and that cheetah. You understand how miserable his winters must be, when he leaves the grassy meadows of his personal jungle for a small crate headed south. It is his time in that crate, though, that makes the imitation jungle at the zoo seem so inviting.

You let out a sigh as you realize that is the feeling that led you to jump at Mic. Your heart yearned to go home, home to Harm; just as the cheetah yearns for the freedom to roam the African wilderness. But, like most things in confinement, after a while you start to see any option as better than staying caged--alone. And when you saw the African wilderness as out of reach, you settled for the zoo jungle and tried to enjoy the opportunity that you did have.

You know that it was for the best that your relationship with Mic ended. It is not that you are missing him, but you had a taste of being loved, and even though it wasn't the real thing, it is still hard to return to solitary confinement.

You flop down on the couch, rubbing your hands over your face, finding the fact that you have started comparing your life to solitary confinement mildly disturbing. Ironically, though, this is what it was like in the beginning… You, home alone, pining for him, wondering what he was doing.

You think back to the beginning, the runs, the dinners. You chuckle as you remember your first spat. The _first_ time he sandbagged you in court. It really took a lot of courage for you to swallow your pride and show up at his apartment with dinner that night, but it was worth it.

And just like that it hits you, you still have that much courage. You leap off the couch and head for the door. You slip your shoes on, grab your purse and practically sprint out of your apartment.

**Harm's loft**

45 minutes later, bags in hand, you find yourself staring at his door. You take a deep breath, working up your nerve, and then you knock.

It only takes seconds for him to open the door. "Hey, Mac," her greets you with a smile. "What brings you by?" he asks, motioning you inside.

"Dinner," you say, holding up the bags for him to see.

"Beltway Burgers, Mac?" he asks, giving you the most incredulous look.

"Since were back at the beginning," you say, hoping he will catch on, "the burgers are for me, I brought you a couscous grilled shrimp and arugula salad."

You can tell by his expression that he is searching through the files, trying to place this particular memory. After a few moments, you turn towards the kitchen, realizing that he must not recall that day.

"Um, Mac," he says, and you turn around. You can tell by his mischievous grin that he has figured it out. "If I remember correctly, that dinner was enjoyed in my bed." He looks towards his bed, then back at you, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"I'm game if you are," you say, just as suggestively.

"Let me grab some drinks," he says, and you walk towards the bed.

You sit down at the head of the bed and start getting the food out. Seconds later, he plops down beside you.

"So, how's the Anderson case going?" he asks, as he gets out his salad.

"It'd be better if Sturgis would accept a deal."

He gives you a knowing nod and starts eating. You smile at the comfortable silence, grateful that the two of you have reached this point.

"Mac?"

"Hmph," you mumble while chewing a bite of your burger.

"I was thinking, since we're back at the beginning, how about I take you flying?"

"Harm," you laugh, "there are some things I do not want to relive."

"Maaac," he says, trying his best to look crushed, "it wasn't that bad, was it?"

"Yes. And I still have the scar to prove it."

"I'll make a deal with you," he says, grinning ear to ear. "If we run into any crazy poachers, I'll take the bullet to the thigh and_ you_ can carry _me_ halfway up the mountain."

"Funny, Harm."

"Well, obviously you haven't laid off the Beltway Burgers," he smiles, smugly, and you playfully swat him. "And, if I remember correctly, you referred to me as a stick boy?"

"Well, your not really that scrawny stick boy any more, Harm."

"Ah, so you have been admiring my manly physique," he says, waggling his eyebrows at you.

"Yup," wickedly you add, "I noticed that you started beefing up shortly after you and Mic stripped blouses." As soon as you say it, you regret it, you never should have brought up Mic's name. His expression tells you that he wishes you hadn't either.

Fortunately, he shrugs it off and says, "Knowing that I couldn't scare off Brumby, well, let's just say it was all the motivation I needed to hit the gym."

"Scare him off what?" you ask, genuinely surprised by his answer.

"Your scent," he states matter-of-factly.

"_Harmon Rabb_" you utter, turning in the bed so that you are facing him.

"What?" he shrugs, popping a carrot into his mouth.

"What!" you repeat, flabbergasted. "Was it your goal to ruin my love life?"

"Not forever, just for a while." he states, nonchalantly.

"What is that suppose to mean?" you ask, still in complete shock.

"I don't know, Mac. Have you ever put your new rank on a uniform before you officially got the promotion?"

You look at him suspiciously, not quite sure where he is taking this, but you answer anyway. "No, I would be afraid I'd jinx myself."

"Well, pretend for a minute that you would. Now, even though you weren't ready to wear that uniform, because you hadn't quite made it to that point, you wouldn't give it away to someone who had been promoted would you?" He shakes his head no, smiling, like this makes perfect sense, and adds, "No, you would keep it for yourself, so when you were ready you would have _exactly_ what you needed."

You shake your head in disbelief. Half of you wants to hit him for thinking he could leave you in the closet until he was ready for you and the other part of him wants to kiss him for admitting, well, kind of admitting, that you are what he wants.

Before you have a chance to formulate a response, he asks, "So, have you talked to Chloe lately?"

"No," you say, realizing that you really are right back at the beginning--right down to the riddles and diversions.

You realize that following the same path will only lead you to the same place. And you do not want to go back to the same place, you want something better. You close your eyes for a moment, and you see the cheetah, turning his head from the path and venturing into the tall grass, making his own trail. You open your eyes and decide to follow his lead.

You crawl up over Harm, getting a lot closer than necessary, and grab your water bottle off the stand next to him. You decide that now is the time to venture off the path. So, as you slide your body back towards your seat, you lean in and place the gentlest kiss on his lips.

As you sit back down, you fumble with your water bottle, wondering how many sips it will take to swallow the lump in your throat. You look everywhere but at him, wondering if it was too much. Kicking yourself for crossing the line, again.

You take one final gulp out of your water bottle and then hand it towards him so he can put it back. He doesn't take it though, and you steal a quick glance in his direction to see him shaking his head.

"Obviously, you can reach the night stand," he says, deadpan.

You sigh, and then lean toward the nightstand, your gaze locked on it. The second you let go of the bottle you try to fall back to your spot, but Harm's hands on the back of your head stop you. He pulls your mouth to his with fervor. His move catches you so off guard that your body falls onto his. He takes advantage of your position and pulls your body closer to his own, deepening the kiss.

The need for air separates you, and you slide back to your spot. You are unable to control the giddy grin plastered across your face, and staring at his enormous smile gives you goose bumps.

He reaches out, takes your hand, and says, "I like this beginning much better."

"Yeah," you hum, "me, too."

The End.


End file.
